Shadow Play
by FairLilyFlower
Summary: A mysterious figure is prowling about the Shire ... what is it? What does it want? Frodo is determined to find out ... Rating for future safety.
1. Prologue

My first attempt at a long story, and also my first Lord of the Rings fan-fiction, so go easy on me!

**NB: **this story takes place before Bilbo leaves the Shire in The Fellowship of the Rings. Oh, and I've borrowed from both the films and the books in writing this, so please forgive any inconsistencies!

**Disclaimer: **everything in this story is the property of the master storyteller, J R R Tolkien. I own nothing and no money is being made from this (I wish!)

In the small town of Hobbiton in the Shire, the Bagginses were the only Hobbit family who were noted for having adventures or being at all unpredictable. Old Bilbo Baggins, who had once disappeared from the Shire for months on end (without even taking his hat) and (reputedly) returned with a hoard of inexhaustible treasure, and his ward Frodo (of whom it was whispered that he was more like an elf-child than a typical rascally tween) could always be counted upon to cause a sensation. No surprises there, with Bilbo descended from the Tooks and Frodo having been brought up in the den of rowdiness that was Brandywine Hall.

So it came of something of a surprise when Will Whitfoot, frequently pointed out by all and sundry as a bastion of good hobbit-sense, came tearing into the _Green Dragon _one cool spring evening, pale as unbaked bread, swearing blind that he'd seen a ghost.

"What's that, Will?" called out Hamfast Gamgee, commonly known as the Gaffer, and Will stammered something out about a big black _Thing _that had swooped down on him and scared him and – his teeth began chattering so much at this point any Hobbit present could have been forgiven for thinking that it was still winter where Will was standing.

Several mugs of ale later, Will had steadied enough to tell his tale in a coherent fashion, and out came a lurid enough story of how he'd been walking back home from a visit to relatives in Bywater just after sundown, nice and full from his aunt's excellent cooking, when he'd rounded a corner – and been confronted with a gigantic spectre, garbed entirely in black, a hood shielding its face, and a long cloak hanging over its body. It had spun round to confront the petrified Will, only to slink noiselessly away into the night once it had seen the quivering Hobbit. Which, Will insisted, was proof enough that it was a ghost, for when had the Big People ever moved silently?

Poor Will had to endure much scoffing when his narrative came to an end. "Maybe it's a ghost that's nicked off with that vegetable pie the missus left on the window sill this morning then!" called out one Proudfoot.

"Aye, and perhaps it made off with some of me apple preserves as well! I'm sure I had more than ten jars left yesterday," remarked Filibert Bolger. The common consensus in the _Green Dragon_ soon proved to be that Will was either seeing things or had fallen asleep and had a nightmare from consuming too many of his aunt's blackberry preserves.

"I allus say, blackberries art worst sort o' berries for causing dreams," said the Gaffer, shaking his head at the notion of ghosts and spooks. "Take our Samwise, for instance. Last time he had supper up at Bag End –"

"Begging your pardon, Gaffer, but what I saw was no dream," Will interrupted defiantly, much to the relief of the said Samwise, who had noticed pretty Rosie Cotton listening avidly to Will and the Gaffer. "I can tell what's a dream and what's not, thank you very much, and I'll have words with any Hobbit who says otherwise." There were quite a few shouts of derision at this, and Will looked just about ready to loose his temper. "Well, all right then, which of you lot is going out to check that there's nothing there then?" he demanded irritably.

His detractors suddenly fell silent at this, and Will snorted contemptuously. "Bunch of ninnies, the lot of you!" he remarked, and things were just getting heated again when a voice rang out above the shouting – young Frodo Baggins, rather to everyone's surprise.

"Enough! Look, everyone knows that Will would never make up a story that wasn't true, and you only have to look at him to see he's wide awake and not seeing things." There were some mutterings from Ted Sandyman at this, but he quieted down when a blue-eyed glance was sent his way. "I'll go and have a look where Will said he saw his ghost if you like," Frodo continued, apparently undaunted. "I might be able to find out what caused the fuss."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, young Mr. Frodo?" the Gaffer asked a bit worriedly, whilst Sam's eyes widened in admiration and alarm combined. "I reckon it's a load of shadows and Will's nerves that caused the ghost up there, but if there _is _something, I don't want to have to face Mr. Bilbo and explain that we let you get carried off by a spook!"

Frodo couldn't help laughing at this notion, but Sam looked quite stricken at such an awful prospect. "Begging you pardon, Mr. Frodo, but if you're going to have a look for Will's ghost, then I'm heading up there with you!" he announced, standing up and striding over. "Any ghosts that come after us will have to get through me!"

"Shouldn't be too hard – lad's as soft as butter and fat as it too," muttered Ted Sandyman. Sam turned beetroot at this unkind comment – unluckily for Sandyman, Frodo overheard it as well, and accidentally-on-purpose banged into Sandyman's table as he walked past. Sandyman's ale went cascading into his lap, much to the victim's dismay and Sam's relief.

"You be careful now!" Rosie Cotton cautioned over Ted's yelps, as Sam and Frodo made for the door. "It's pitch dark outside! Here, take this lantern -" she passed a brightly lighted little contraption to Sam, who accepted it gratefully.

"We'll be fine, Miss Rose!" Sam smiled at her, and then nearly tripped over his own feet as she smiled back.

"You're a very brave Hobbit, Sam!" she informed him, at which point Sam turned the colour of a tomato with sunburn. Frodo, smiling wryly, had to give Rosie their thanks and then grab hold of Sam and haul him bodily towards the door, as Sam seemed to have forgotten how to move his feet.

"Come along, Sam! I'll need you! There's nothing like another pair of eyes to have a look at a puzzle. Will, where was it you saw your ghost? Just up the road?" Frodo enquired as he paused with his hand on the door handle.

"By the big oak tree," Will answered, shuddering, reaching for yet another mug of ale. "But don't ask me to go back out there again, young Frodo! Gave me some terrible shivers, it did!"

"All right, all right!" Frodo nodded, as the other patrons regarded them with a mixture of admiration, curiosity and slight worry. "We'll take a look and be back in a few minutes."

Frodo felt quite light-hearted as they stepped out into the cool, breezy though gloomy evening, but Sam was quite edgy, and took hold of Frodo's arm ready just in case anything _was_ waiting for them up the road. Anything that wanted to harm Mr. Frodo would have Samwise Gamgee to deal with!

Accordingly, Frodo and Sam shortly found themselves besides the big oak tree Will had mentioned, looking around for any sign of unusual happenings or personages having passed that way. It was already full night time and clouds hung low over the Shire, making it so dark there was barely even enough light to cast any shadows. The light from Sam's small lantern soon proved insufficient to search properly by, and Frodo wandered off a little way, relying solely on his clear sight.

"I can't see a thing round here, Mr. Frodo," Sam sighed after a few moments. "I reckon Mr. Will must've seen a fox or badger or something out the corner of his eye and thought it a ghost." Sam took the lantern over to the hedge that bordered one side of the road in order to search for any hidey-holes an animal might have sprung from, but even this search proved fruitless. Frodo meanwhile was simply standing below the oak tree, eyes glancing everywhere, until they lighted on something near where Sam was looking.

"Sam, what's that? On the road, by your feet?"

Sam danced backwards and lowered the lantern – and sure enough, spotted by Frodo's sharp eyes, was a footprint in the dust. Not a Hobbit footprint, nor even one from any kind of animal – no, this was a print from a _boot_. And a large one at that!

"So there _was _someone!" Frodo murmured softly, deep in thought. "Poor Will must have been scared silly!" Sam shuddered, and looked around cautiously.

"Do – do you think it _was _a ghost he saw, Mr. Frodo?" he enquired nervously, eyes scanning the surrounding darkness for anything even remotely ghostly. Frodo shook his head as he gazed at the footprint.

"No, Sam! A ghost wouldn't leave footprints – I'm quite certain about that!" Frodo paused and passed a searching glance around them. There was nothing – only the faintest rustling of leaves overheard. "I would say it was elves," he continued slowly, causing Sam's face to light up in delight. "They're supposed to move in silence, but I can't see what business they'd have in the Shire."

"But it _could_ be an elf, Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed excitedly, all fear vanished. "It could be! Lucky Will, to have seen such a thing!"

"Or not so lucky," Frodo continued, shivering slightly as the wind picked up. "I'm not sure it was an elf, Sam. I've never heard of elves leaving footprints. We'd best be on our guard till we find out what it was!"

Sam paused in his delighted wondering – Mr. Frodo was right, of course! _Comes of being a scholar, I suppose,_ he thought to himself. Of course no elf would be so careless as to leave footprints! _I wonder what it could be if not an elf. _But then he remembered that Frodo – and indeed himself – was standing outside and away from safety with goodness-knows-what prowling about in the dark, terrorising Hobbits! "Time enough for that tomorrow, Mr. Frodo!" he said firmly, taking hold of Frodo's arm again and setting off back to the _Green Dragon. _"Let's get you back inside!"

Frodo sighed at Sam's fussing, but good-naturedly allowed himself to be tugged along by his friend. Sam always meant well, no matter what the circumstances. They strode down the road together, Sam keeping an eye out for anything black and scary that might jump out at them. Frodo meanwhile gazed at the horizon, wondering what precisely Will had seen and where it might have come from …

The clouds at the horizon's edge shifted as though they were a curtain that had been lifted, showing a glimmering of clear azure skies above the hilltop that was studded with stars. But Frodo barely noticed the sky – the clouds had revealed something else upon the hill. Stood upon its very rim was a shape – a tall, black, formless shape, motionless, gazing down into the valley. And a moment later it had melted away, disappeared over the rise.

Frodo sucked in his breath sharply, eyes straining to catch sight of the figure once more. But the clouds rolled back down to touch the summit once more, and all vision was lost. Only the wind remained, sounding like a lonely sigh behind them.


	2. Next Morning

_The next morning:_

"A figure on the hilltop, you said?" inquired Bilbo Baggins, pausing in his eating, a slice of toast still poised in one hand. "Are you certain that it wasn't a Hobbit, my lad?" he continued, scrutinising his ward through very knowing blue eyes.

"Yes, Uncle – it was far too tall for a Hobbit," Frodo answered from across the breakfast table, lively as ever – despite the puzzling happenings of the previous evening he had slept well, although his dreams had been haunted by moving shadows and cold moonlight. "And I've seldom known Hobbits to wear hoods and cloaks in Hobbiton, for one thing. Sam and I let everyone known about the footprint, but I've told no one else about the thing on the rise – it would probably only start a panic." He paused, remembering the silence that had descended over the _Green Dragon _last night when he and Sam had reported the footprint, until the Gaffer had spoken.

"Happen it was a couple of tweens having a laugh," he remarked slowly. "Sorry for doubting you, Will!"

The pub had speedily resumed its usual atmosphere at that, with Will being bought numerous drinks to atone for being teased. Only Frodo had remained apart from the revelry, sunk deep in thought at what he had witnessed.

"You did right there, lad," Bilbo mused, breaking into Frodo's thoughts. Bilbo put down his toast and propped his elbows on the table, manners forgotten for the moment. "No sense in causing a fuss till we know what we're dealing with …" he trailed off and sat very still, eyes fixed on the middle distance.

Frodo recognised that Bilbo was deep in contemplation, and waited patiently, his gaze drifting off towards the open window. In contrast to the cloudy night that had gone before, it was an unusually warm day outside, temperate and sunny as could be wished. Already the bumble bees were buzzing their way around the flower beds. But remembering the silhouette upon the hill last night, Frodo couldn't help but feel a cold tingle of anticipation work its way down his spine.

"Hmm," Bilbo announced, bringing Frodo back from his reverie. "I reckon you're right in one thing lad – this was no elf. Don't ask me how I know, I just do!" he added brusquely as Frodo's eyes widened in questioning. "But all the same, we'd do well to keep our eyes and ears open," he added in a softer tone. "Hopefully it's nothing but a couple of tweens playing some tricks –" though Bilbo did not sound too confident in this assessment "- but I'm glad young Samwise had the gumption to accompany you last night."

Frodo smiled with only the slightest touch of amusement at that – affection clearly brought the expression to his face. "Sam's capable of more than everyone thinks he is, Uncle," he remarked fondly. "He looked ready to take on a dragon last night if he needed to."

Bilbo chuckled at that idea, remembering how, more years ago that he cared to think about … "Well, you stick by him, lad. Besides, after that little escapade with the Sackville-Bagginses last month, I think Sam will be sticking by _you_ until the moon falls out of the sky!"

Both Hobbits began laughing at that – especially Bilbo. What a scene that had been! It had started when Sam had been wandering down the hill from Bag End one afternoon carrying a basket of various vegetables and fruit that hadn't made it through the winter despite careful storage. The intention was giving the lot to the Bracegirdle's pigs, until Lotho Sackville-Baggins and a couple of cronies had pounced on him and hurled him bodily into the nearest duck pond.

Poor Sam had gone right under the water, and had been thrashing about in a panic when Frodo suddenly burst onto the scene, attracted by Sam's cries, and jumped headlong into the pond to pull out the sputtering Sam. As soon as they were both on dry land, Frodo had cut off Lotho's jeering by letting fly with whatever rotten vegetables came to hand from Sam's dropped basket. Lotho and his bullying friends had wound up covered in nasty smelling vegetable slime, and to add injury to insult Bilbo himself had turned up at that point and applied his stout walking stick to their backsides.

Bilbo had given Frodo a mild ticking off for the vegetable hurling as well, but was secretly proud of his ward for standing up for Sam. Sam himself, who obviously already adored the younger Baggins, had been convinced that Mr. Frodo had saved his life and had held forth on his near-drowning and Frodo's heroic rescue to anyone who would listen, rather to Frodo's embarrassment. _Luckily Will's ghost appears to have distracted him from it, _Frodo thought. _I wonder if Sam has any more ideas about what we saw last night._

He left Bilbo to his chuckles and wandered outside into the bright daylight, blinking a little to clear his vision. Sam was bent over the flowerbed, watering and talking encouragingly to the flowers that were just beginning to send up green shoots. "Here now, this water will you do you some good – hey, bumble bee, fly away! They're not ready for you yet!" Glancing up to watch the bee as it flew off, he caught sight of Frodo standing on the garden path. "Morning, Mr. Frodo!" he called cheerfully. "How's yourself and Mr. Bilbo today?"

"Quite all right, thank you Sam," Frodo answered. "We've been talking about the ghost and what it might be again."

Sam was instantly all attention. "Has Mr. Bilbo worked it out then, Mr. Frodo?" he asked eagerly. But Frodo shook his head.

"He said it might just be a couple of tweens playing a prank, but neither of us thinks that's likely," Frodo sighed, as Sam listened avidly. "I thought that maybe you had a few theories of your own, Sam!" Frodo continued more cheerily, at which Sam promptly dropped the watering can and stood straight up, shaking his head.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I'm no scholar," he protested. "I'm a gardener, me. I don't have much book-learning – I'm not even that good at reading them! And I certainly don't have the wits for a mystery like this – I mean, if Mr. Bilbo can't solve it –"

"Sam!" Frodo interrupted, before Sam's ramblings could lead them away from the subject entirely. "Sam, you don't have to be book-learned to be clever – or wise, for that matter," he continued in a softer tone. "If you can think of anything that might help solve what happened last night, then let's have it!"

Sam put his head on one side and started thinking hard – proper thinking was seldom anything else for Sam, not because he was dim-witted as so many thought, Frodo reflected, but because he liked to see a job well done, and that included thinking. At long last, Sam straightened up and looked back over at Frodo. "I reckon Mr. Bilbo's right, Mr. Frodo – this is the sort of prank some tweens would pull, but something is telling me _no_ – we would've heard them laughing about it after if it had been! And I reckon _you're _right, Mr. Frodo – an elf wouldn't leave footprints, nor would a badger or a fox. And Hobbits don't wear boots or shoes, so that means it can only be one of the Big Folk."

"Process of elimination! Sam, you are an intellectual after all!" Frodo exclaimed delightedly, at which Sam swiftly lost track of the conversation. But before he could ask for an explanation, Frodo was hurrying on: "I think you might have hit on the solution, Sam! But what would one of the BigFolk want in the Shire? The only visitor from them I've ever heard of – in recent memory at least – is Gandalf, and he always comes to see Bilbo when he's here!"

"Maybe it's Mr. Gandalf paying a secret visit then?" Sam suggested, but Frodo shook his head.

"Gandalf is rather like Bilbo in some ways Sam – he loves to cause an uproar!" Frodo remarked mischievously. "Trust me, if it was Gandalf, he'd be in Bag End right now, both of them plotting away!"

"I heard that!" A grumpy yell sounded from just inside Bag End, causing Sam to jump and Frodo to start chuckling. Sam glanced over at the open front door to see if Bilbo was still watching, but Frodo's good humour was infectious, and soon both of them were laughing.

"I don't see what there is to look so suited about!" came another grumpy voice – that of a female Hobbit this time. Both Frodo and Sam stopped laughing abruptly, and Frodo heaved a heavy sigh – Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was standing at the garden gate. "Where's Bilbo, then?" she demanded.

"He's gone for a walk," Frodo replied swiftly, glancing at Bag End, hoping that Bilbo had spotted the unwelcome visitor and vanished as he usually seemed to do when unpleasant callers arrived. Lobelia raised her eyebrows at this, but didn't remark upon it. Opening the gate and striding up the garden path, she swept past both Frodo and Sam and into the Hobbit hole.

"I've come to borrow some seed cake," she remarked over her shoulder. "We've visitors this evening, and all our cake has gone! Strangest thing – we had several in the pantry not two days ago and they're all gone! I blame those Chubbs – always prowling round, out for what they can find …"

Lobelia disappeared into Bag End's interior, leaving both Hobbits gaping after her – Sam in sheer outrage at her nerve, Frodo in contemplation. Then Frodo suddenly snapped his fingers and stepped hastily over to Sam. "Sam!" he whispered urgently. "Lobelia's not the only one to have food go missing – remember in the pub last night? Filibert Bolger and Everard Proudfoot said that some food of theirs had gone missing – perhaps it's something to do with Will's ghost?"

Sam blinked at this sudden idea. "I don't know, Mr. Frodo – if it is a Big Person, then what would they want with Hobbit food? And surely someone would have spotted them if they've been prowling about, filching food from larders! Happen it's a co-thingy – a coincidence."

Frodo sighed. "The more adventures I have the less I believe in coincidence, Sam, but you've got a point there," he mused, pausing as the sound of Lobelia clattering about in Bag End filtered through the doorway. "Although … there's more," Frodo continued, keeping an eye out for Lobelia's return as he quickly informed Sam of the figure on the hilltop he had seen. Poor Sam's mouth had dropped wide open by the time Frodo had finished – all of this was sounding far too like an adventure for his liking!

"Why didn't you say something last night, Mr. Frodo?" he enquired slowly, once Frodo had completed his tale.

"I didn't want to cause a panic in the _Green Dragon_ – not until we know what we're dealing with, as Bilbo said," Frodo replied, a note of apology in his voice. "But there's only one way we're going to find out more – go and look!"

"Go and look?" Sam exclaimed, only to be halted very suddenly by a very annoyed Lobelia storming back up the path, with what looked like the entire contents of a jar of marmalade spattered all over her skirts – and not a slice of seed cake in sight.

"Wretched item just seemed to fling itself at me!" she informed Frodo crossly, before stamping her way out of the gate the road, still muttering wrathfully. Not a minute later Bilbo put his head of the door.

"She's gone then?" he asked. "Thank heavens," he sighed at Frodo's nod. "That old baggage was after my supper," he continued. "It's lucky that little – _accident _– with the marmalade took place!"

"Uncle," Frodo interrupted, eyes shining brightly, "I've told Sam about the figure on the hilltop, and we think it might be a good idea if we go and have a look up there – perhaps find a few clues about what's going on."

Bilbo paused in his grumbling and looked straight at Frodo. "What a marvellous idea, lad!" he exclaimed. "Nothing like a spot of adventure to take your mind off things! Let me fetch some walking sticks and we'll be off in two ticks!"

"Will you both be all right up there, Mr. Bilbo?" Sam asked, a bit disconcerted by Bilbo's enthusiasm.

"Why, Samwise, you didn't think we'd leave you behind, did you?" replied Bilbo merrily. "I'll just fetch you a stick as well and we'll all be off together – three Hobbits off to solve a mystery!"

"Oh lor!" Sam cried, overwhelmed, as Bilbo went on his errand. "Me away solving a mystery! I'm not too sure about this!"


End file.
